Ni Hao (Hello)
by 2lieutenant
Summary: He couldn't go blind. Not here, not now, and especially not in a POW camp. But sometimes, what can't happen does happen. And then what is he supposed to do? A response to 17) The Land of the Rising Hun Challenge by 96 Hubbles. An attempt to incorporate an Asian Allied prisoner into camp.
1. Chapter 1: Ni Jiao Shen Me Ming Zi?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hogan's Heroes or profit from writing.**

 **Author's Note: I haven't seen any stories for 17) The Land of the Rising Hun Challenge - 96 Hubbles. So this is my attempt. I hope it's satisfactory.**

The boys of Barracks 2 were playing volleyball when Carter noticed a truck entering the gates.

"Hey, wonder who that is."

Newkirk looked to where Carter was pointing. "Must be some new prisoners."

"We're not due for any new ones," said Kinch.

"Oui," agreed LeBeau, "We would know if there are new prisoners coming."

The man hopped out of the truck and everyone gasped.

Kinch turned to LeBeau, "Louis, go get Colonel Hogan."

Lebeau nodded and quickly ran to the barracks.

"What's a Jap doing here?" asked Newkirk.

"Yeah, I thought the Japanese were the German's allies," remarked a puzzled Carter.

"This is rather strange. Let's brew up some coffee, shall we?" Kinch headed for the barracks.

They burst into Colonel Hogan's office.

"Hey, Colonel, you'll never believe it," cried Carter.

"Yeah, sure is a weird one," agreed Newkirk.

Hogan held up his hands. "Hold it, hold it. I've already heard enough from LeBeau. Kinch, turn on the coffee pot."

Kinch plugged in the coffeepot, and they all gathered around to listen.

"Ah, Major Hochstetter, what an honor. I say it's always a good day when the Gestapo comes to visit. Would you care for some refreshment?" Klink began to pour some schnapps.

"No, I would not care for any refreshment and neither would you." The major plucked the schnapps from Klink's hand and set it on the table.

Klink glanced mournfully at the schnapps. "Of course not," he quickly agreed. "But I must say, with all the stress of running a successful stalag..."

Major Hochstetter sighed, "Let's get to the matter on hand, shall we Klink?"

"Yes, Major. Now, what is it you need?"

The major motioned to the prisoner standing next to him. "I need you to hold him here. He has managed to escape from two other camps. We cannot let that happen, of course."

"But I thought the Japanese were our friends."

"Don't be an idiot, Klink. This man is Chinese, not Japanese. You can tell the difference by the face and stature."

Klink peered at the man over his monocle. "He is?"

Hochstetter sighed, "Of course he is. Can't you tell? It doesn't really matter. I just need you to keep him here."

"I would love to be of assistance, but I'm afraid we are very full. Don't have anymore room."

Hogan unplugged the coffeepot. "That won't do. We need to find out what he's here for. This would be my cue to enter." He picked up his crush cap and left. Hogan walked into Klink's outer office. He bent down and kissed Hilda on the neck.

"Is the Kommandant in," he murmured against her skin.

Hilda sighed distractedly, "Yes, he's with Major Hochstetter."

Hogan let her go. "Thanks." He barged into Klink's office. "Sorry to interrupt, Kommandant, but..."

"Then don't, Hogan," Klink snapped.

Hochstetter spotted him. "What is this man doing here, Klink?" he roared.

"Yes, Hogan, what are you doing here?"

Hogan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "The men were wondering if we could have a few extra things for our German grammar class." He read from the list, "Notebooks, pencils, a piece of white bread, extra hot water, German newspapers, and shovels."

"Ah, ah, ah, ah. What do you need a shovel for? Are you planning to escape? Let me warn you in advance, Hogan. There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13."

Hogan snapped his fingers. "You got me there, Kommandant. Should have known I couldn't pull one over the Iron Eagle."

Klink puffed up proudly.

Hogan turned to the Chinese man and held out his hand. "How are you? Make yourself at comfortable. It's not much, but it's what we call home now. Sorry for ignoring you earlier, we had some pressing matters to discuss."

The man smiled. "My name is Lee Jiang."

Hogan looked at Klink. "I thought you and the Japanese were allies. Did they finally realize you're just using them?"

"Hogan, I will not stand your insolence. Of course the Japanese are our allies. This man is Chinese, can't you tell?"

"You couldn't tell either, Klink," snorted Hochstetter. He glance at Hogan. "What is this man doing here? Get him out."

"Yes, Hogan. What are you still doing here?" Klink wondered aloud. "Out!"

Hogan shrugged. "Just being polite, Kommandant. Just because there's a war on, doesn't mean we can't use our manners." He sighed in mock despair and left.


	2. Chapter 2: Nǐ Cóng Nǎ Er Lái ?

Klink watched him leave. He turned to Major Hochstetter. "Now where were we?"

Major Hochstetter held up a finger. "I think, Klink, you were just about to order one of your guards to bring this man to a barracks."

"I was?" Seeing Hochstetter's glare, Klink nodded furiously. "Of course, Major Hochstetter, I was just about to do that."

Hochstetter rolled his eyes.

"Langenscheidt," Klink called.

The young guard burst into the room and almost fell over before regaining his balance. He snapped off a crisp salute. "Yes, Herr Kommandant?"

Klink waved a hand. "Langenscheidt, take this man to Barracks 2. It's the only one with any room."

Langenscheidt stuttered, "But, Herr Kommandmant, Colonel Hogan said he couldn't take any more men."

"Am I running this camp, or is Colonel Hogan? When I give an order, it is to be followed or face the consequences."

"Of course, Herr Kommandant," Langenscheidt hastily responded. He took the prisoner and left.

Klink looked at the major and gloated. "You have to be firm with them. Firm but fair is my motto. Do you know, that the men in this camp look on me as a father figure?" He nodded his head. "It's quite inspirational. They even gave me a nickname: 'Klink the Fink.'" He smiled at the memory.

Hochstetter's voice broke through his reverie. "Klink, I suggest you start finding inspiration as how to make sure our prisoner doesn't escape. If you do not, well, perhaps you should start stocking up on earmuffs and long underwear."

Klink swallowed audibly. "I don't think that will be necessary, Major Hochstetter. You see, I run an absolutely escape-proof camp. Not-"

Inside Barracks 2, Hogan's men looked at each other and grinned. They finished the sentence with Klink. "-a single prisoner has ever successfully escaped from Stalag 13."

Klink continued, "And if they do," he smiled and pointed a finger at Hochstetter, "I'll catch him."

Hochstetter waved that away. "Bah. Klink, I am not interested in your previous record. My only interest is that it continues." He rose from his chair. "You'll be hearing from me if you don't."

Klink also got up. "It was so nice talking to you, Major Hochstetter. Auf wiedersehen."

Hochstetter slammed the door before Klink finished.

Colonel Klink clenched his fist. "I can't stand that man," he muttered to himself.

Back at the prisoners' barracks, Garlotti stopped Langenscheidt from putting the Chinese man in with them. "Hey, Langenscheidt, I thought Colonel Hogan said no more men in our barracks. Can't you take him somewhere else?" He looked at the man more closely. "And what's a Jap doing here?"

Langenscheidt fidgeted nervously. "I don't know. But I can't move him, Kommandant Klink's orders."

Just then, Hogan came out of his quarters. "It's alright, Garlotti. If the Kommandant said so, I guess it goes." He turned to Langenscheidt. "Okay, Langenscheidt, you can leave him with us, now."

Langenscheidt nodded. He turned to leave, but hesitated. He turned back to Hogan. Leaning toward him, he whispered, "Why is a Japanese man a prisoner here? I thought they were our allies, not yours. Did they hear that the Fuhrer is only using them?"

Hogan grinned. "He's not Japanese. He's Chinese."

Langenscheidt nodded uncertainly. "Oh." He just stood there, looking slightly confused. Finally, he left.

Hogan glanced around the barracks until he found the new man. He was talking animatedly to Garlotti. Hogan walked up to them and draped an arm around their shoulders. "Garlotti, show this man all the works."

Garlotti looked up. "Sure thing, Colonel."

"Oh, and do the whole drill, will you?"

Garlotti caught Hogan's meaning and nodded.

Hogan walked away to, "So, Lee, what unit were you from before you got shot down?" Hogan slapped the entrance to their tunnel and climbed down. He straightened his bomber jacket and went in search of Kinch or Baker. He found Baker in the radio room. Hogan looked around, puzzled.

"Where's Kinch?" he asked Baker.

Baker looked up. "Oh, he's upstairs translating LeBeau's French tirade to the others."

Hogan rolled his eyes. Those boys would never stop teasing LeBeau about his cooking. "Baker, get me all the information you can on the new man. He seems clean, but we never can be too sure."

"Sure thing, Colonel."

Hogan headed upstairs. He motioned Carter over. "Carter, make friends with the new guy, will you? Don't tell him anything about our operation, okay?"

"You got it, boy. I mean, Colonel."

Hogan shook his head and smiled. If anybody could gain the confidence and trust of this new man, it would be Carter. The kid could put anyone at ease. He made friends quicker than you could say "Hi. Nice to meet you."


	3. Chapter 3: Wǒ de míng zì shì?

Garlotti gave Lee the grand tour. Their last stop was the mess hall. Garlotti threw open the doors. He made a wide sweep with his arms. "And this is the mess hall," he said with all the elegance of a butler.

Lee peered cautiously inside. "Is the food any good?" he asked hopefully.

Garlotti snorted, "Good? I suppose if you're a mouse. Sawdust filled bread and slop. Lucky for our barracks, we have our own chef."

"We have a chef?" Lee's eyes widened in surprise and delight.

Garlotti grinned. "Yeah, Louis LeBeau. Other than the odd French dish that we can't pronounce here and there, it's mostly pretty palatable."

"Do you think he will mind having to cook for an extra person?"

"Naw, he won't care. It gives him something to do. It can get pretty dull around here. Just make sure you don't insult his cooking. Don't ask for any ketchup or very American dishes. He feels that it is an insult to his culinary genius to have to cook foods like that. If you do, you may find yourself having to eat here for a few weeks." He wrinkled his nose. "That won't be a pleasant experience. I did that once. I asked LeBeau if he would make me a pizza. I'm Italian, you know. My parents own a pizzeria. Anyways, I told him I was really craving a pizza. He went off in a tirade of French. I couldn't understand any of it, but I got his meaning. He didn't let me eat anything he made for two weeks."

Lee laughed. "I will make sure not to. Perhaps he would be open to letting me my own cook Chinese food?"

"Hey, that's right, you're Chinese. I've never had any before." Garlotti looked thoughtful. "Maybe you could convince LeBeau to let you use his stuff. He's pretty protective of it, so I don't know. But if you make any, I'd like to try some."

"Sure, you'll really like some of the things I have in mind. Thanks for showing me around. I think I'll go back to the barracks now. Maybe write a letter to my parents." He headed back. Carter stopped him outside the barracks. He held out his hand.

"Hi, my name's Andrew Carter. You're new, aren't you?"

Lee shook Carter's hand. "Yeah, my name is Lee Jiang. I'm from California."

Carter's eyes widened. "Wow, California. That sounds pretty neat. I'm from Bullfrog, North Dakota."

"Oh, must be pretty cold there."

"Yes, but I didn't mind too much. You get used to it. My cousin, Angry Rabbit, and I used to snowshoe during the winter. It was a lot of fun."

Lee looked puzzled. "Angry Rabbit?"

"Yup, my Indian name is Little Deer Who Runs Swift And Sure Through Forest."

Realization dawned on Lee's face. "Oh, you are an Indian."

"Yeah. My great-grandfather fought with Sitting Bull," he said proudly.

They were interrupted by Foster. "Hey, Carter. You going to play ball with us?"

"Sure." He turned to Lee. "Want to play? It's really fun."

Lee smiled. "No, thanks. I think I'll write to my parents and tell them what happened to me. Nice talking to you, Andrew."

Carter nodded. "Okay, see you later." He ran off to play ball with the others.

Lee stared after him. He liked this Andrew Carter.


	4. Chapter 4: Zhè jiù shì shēng huó

**Author's Note: I realized I had been spelling Schultz wrong. My deepest and most sincere apologies.**

The next morning, they were rudely awakened by Schultz. "Roll call! _Raus, Raus, Raus."_

Newkirk, with his eyes still closed, responded, "Come back later, Schultzie."

Schultz vehemently shook his head. "No. It is time for roll call. You are already 15 seconds late."

Carter rolled from his bed and landed on his feet. He stretched. "Hi, Schultz. We're up now."

Schultz looked at him in gratitude. "Thank you, Carter. You are always such a good boy."

Carter beamed angelically. "I try my best. You see, my parents always told me to be amiable and not to cause trouble."

"They also could have told you a healthy person needs to have more sleep," grumbled a sleepy LeBeau. He got down from his bunk and wrapped his blanket around him. "Alright, I'm up."

Hogan came out from his room. He adjusted his jacket. "Schultz, a person needs 8 hours of sleep. Didn't your parents ever tell you that?"

"Huh, I wish someone would tell that to Kommandant Klink. He ordered a midnight roll call for the next week. That will cut an hour of my sleep."

Hogan and his men glanced at each other. "Why is he doing this, Schultz?" asked Kinch.

"I don't know."

Newkirk waved two chocolate bars in front of his face. Schultz followed them with his eyes. "Are you sure you don't know anything, Schultzie?"

"Major Hochstetter told Klink to order surprise roll calls, because he wants to make sure the new prisoners does not try to escape."

Lee was surprised. "Me?" he asked, pointing to himself.

"That doesn't make sense," mused Kinch. "Hochstetter would be more than happy to find a way to get rid of Klink. Why would he order roll calls to make sure Lee doesn't try to escape?"

Lee cut in. "I never tried to escape. I was picked up right after I got shot down." He turned to Schultz. "Are you sure it was me?"

Schultz nodded. "Yes, it was you." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "But that is not the real reason. He is still trying to prove Colonel Hogan is Papa Bear." He chuckled. "How could Colonel Hogan be Papa Bear? That is crazy. "

Hogan and his men grinned at each other. How indeed! Hogan patted Schultz on the back. "How could I be Papa Bear? I'm stuck in the toughest POW camp in Germany."

LeBeau nodded in agreement. " _Oui_ , that is right."

Schultz smiled. "That is what Colonel Klink tried to tell Major Hochstetter, but he wouldn't listen." He grabbed the chocolate bars from Newkirk. "Alright, time for roll call. _Schnell_."

"Okay, fellas, you heard Schultz. Let's get lined up for roll call." Hogan followed Schultz out the door.

The men fell out, and Schultz counted them. He sighed in relief when he confirmed that no one was missing or had been mysteriously been replaced by someone else.

Klink came out of his office. "Reporrrrt!"

Schultz saluted. "All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant."

Klink returned the salute. "Very good. Dissssmissed."

"What are we going to do about those roll calls?" Kinch asked.

Hogan sighed. "Nothing. Nothing at all." A chorus of "what's" and "are you kidding me's" greeted this declaration. "Look, fellas, I can't do much about it. Klink might get suspicious if I say anything. We have nothing important to do. Unless we get a new mission, or a few new visitors, we're just going to have to live with it. I don't like it anymore than you do."

The men glanced at each other and nodded in agreement. There really was no reason they absolutely had to get rid of the roll calls. They slowly dispersed.

Newkirk sighed. He walked over to Lee. "Want to join me for a game of cards?"

"Sure."

LeBeau overheard Newkirk. "Careful," he cautioned, "Newkirk almost always wins." He lowered his voice. "He also usually cheats."

"Hey," Newkirk protested, "It's a disease."

Lee grinned. "Well, at least it will help pass the time."

Newkirk nodded his approval. "That's the spirit, mate."

They gathered a few more guys, and they played a few rounds.


	5. Chapter 5: Nan Ren

After about the fifth game, Lee set his cards down. "I think I'd better quit now, fellas." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm having a little trouble seeing clearly."

"Is something wrong?" Carter asked.

"Naw, this happens sometimes. I think I just have sensitive eyes. Must be the light." He sat down on his bunk and closed his eyes. He had his suspicions, but he wasn't going to say anything until he had to. Besides, most of his family had sensitive eyes; wasn't anything to worry about. He sat there with his eyes closed for some time. Finally, he opened his eyes. There, the blurriness was all gone. He knew it would, always had. Lee walked over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. The light from the window made him squint. He grew lightheaded and nauseous. He leaned against the stove and drew in deep, even breaths. He turned his head away and closed his eyes. This had to stop.

The bunk above the tunnel opened to reveal Kinch. "Message for the Colonel," he told them, "know where he is?" He stopped when he heard the sound of drums. "Never mind, already found him." He approached the Colonel's door and knocked.

Hogan set down his drumsticks when he heard the knock. "Come in," he called.

Kinch opened the door. "Message from London, Colonel."

Hogan sighed. "Knew this break was too good to be true. What do they need from us now?"

"You know how you told me to check out the new man?"

Hogan narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, but I thought he was clean."

Kinch nodded. "He is clean, but they gave me his medical record. It looks like he...well, you can take a look for yourself." He handed the clipboard to Hogan.

Hogan took it and began reading. There was all the normal stuff. Lee had broken his arm climbing a tree, he'd had a concussion from playing baseball; he laughed when he saw Lee had stuffed pebbles up his nose. That must have been painful. Other than that, it was pretty much all the normal injuries teens managed to get. He started in surprise when he got halfway through. He reread it. This couldn't be right. How did he even mange to get into the Air Force? He glanced at Kinch.

"Tell me I'm hallucinating. This can't be real."

Kinch shook his head. "As convenient as it would be to tell you you're hallucinating; I'm afraid everything you're reading is correct."

Hogan read it again. He just couldn't believe it. This was crazy.

"And Lee doesn't even know?"

"Apparently not. The doctors didn't know until recently."

Hogan shook his head in disbelief. "How did he even pass the fitness test? You can't fly when your vision is faulty. And what exactly is glaucoma?"

"I asked the same question. It's when the optic nerve deteriorates. The ophthalmologist I spoke to said he thinks Lee most likely has primary juvenile glaucoma. It's genetic. The doctor saw his family's medical records, and most of them have some type of eye issue. His right eye was hit with a baseball, causing him to lose sight in that one eye for a few days. The doctor thinks that worsened the glaucoma. He said that Lee might be in quite a lot of pain. Oh, and he also said he might have cataracts. It's not common to have both, but he saw a picture of Lee's eye taken after his baseball incident, and there is a cloudy spot on the lens."

Hogan sighed. "Is there any treatment for either?"

"None for glaucoma. Well, he did say that some people have claimed bilberries help. He said they contain anthocyanosides which are antioxidants."

Hogan blinked in confusion. "What are bilberries? And most of this is going right over my head."

Kinch explained. "Bilberries are related to blueberries. They are found in Northern Europe. The good doctor informed me that some British pilots said that eating bilberry jam increased their nighttime vision. Some other patients claimed bilberries prevented and helped cure glaucoma, but he said it hasn't been proven. It's worth a shot, though."

"Wonderful, now I have to comb through Germany and find some bilberry jam. The next thing you know, I'll have to have mangos imported from the Philippines." Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose. " What about the cataracts, Kinch?"

"The ophthalmologist, Dr. Ridley, told me the Chinese use something called couching. You can also have cataract extraction surgery by using a suction device to remove the lens. Couching requires a sharp instrument, like a thorn or needle, to push the lens to the back of the eye."

Hogan winced at the thought. "Sounds pleasant. I think I'd prefer the surgery. Okay, Kinch, have Lee come in here."

Kinch sighed and nodded. "Right, Colonel." He had his hand on the door, when he turned back. "Are you going to tell him right now?"

Hogan exhaled with enough force to blow several papers off his desk. "I have to, Kinch. He needs to know as soon as possible so he can get treatment. We might even have to send him to England. Stalag 13 might just be in for its first escape." He waved a hand. "Kinch, go get Lee. No use beating around the bush." Hogan didn't know what else to do. How was he going to tell a pilot he had an eye disease?

Kinch left the Colonel's office. He walked over to Lee and drew a deep breath."Lee, Colonel Hogan wants to see you."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Colonel?" Lee saluted sharply and stood at attention.

Hogan sighed. "At ease. We don't really do that here."

Lee nodded and relaxed. "Do you need something, Colonel?"

"Yeah, actually I did. Uh, Lee..." Hogan trailed off and focused his gaze on the poster of Betty Grable. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Lee, do you know-" He stopped and shifted nervously. After several more false starts, Hogan finally just told him. "Lee, you have glaucoma and cataracts." He winced at how blunt he sounded. Behind him, Kinch made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choking. Hogan turned around. Kinch shook his head at him. Hogan shrugged his shoulders. How else was he supposed to say it?

Lee was in shock and he stared at Hogan for a while. He tried to speak, but all that came out were incoherent mumblings. Finally he got out, "How did you know?"

It was Hogan's turn to be shocked. "You knew and yet you still joined the Air Force. Do you know how dangerous that is? You could have killed many people including yourself." Hogan's voice raised until he was shouting.

Lee paled and he fastened his eyes on his shoes. He was in trouble, and he knew it. Kinch noticed Lee's expression and cleared his throat very loudly.

"Sir, Lee is standing approximately four feet away from you. I don't think you need to shout."

Hogan glanced around and realized Kinch was right. He lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, but what were you thinking?"

"I didn't know I have those things you're talking about. I knew I had sensitive eyes, but my vision hasn't really worsened. It goes cloudy sometimes, but it always goes back to normal. I have done a pretty good job hiding it, I think. How did you figure it out?"

"We looked it up."

"You looked it up? How'd you do that? Oh." He quickly understood and fell silent. "What am I going to do? I can't escape. There's no Chinese man to take my place. The Krauts would catch us in an instant."

"Bilberry jam."

"What? Bilberry jam? What does that have to do with this?"

"We are going to give you bilberry jam in hopes it will help your glaucoma. As for the cataracts, we'll see if we can find a doctor to perform surgery."

"But what is bilberry jam? How is it going to help glaucoma? Will it work?"

"I don't know. We'll have to try it. There's no known cure for glaucoma. Some people have claimed bilberry jam helped. As for the cataracts, surgery usually helps. If we can't find a doctor, we'll just have to send you home."

Lee said nothing for about five minutes. He saluted and walked out of the room without a word. He immediately went to his bunk and sat down to write.

In his office, Hogan stared listlessly into space. He'd never had to deal with such a situation before. He couldn't imagine what Lee was going through. He was a pilot. They relied on their vision to fly. He was going to lose an important part of himself. Hogan felt so helpless. These men were his responsibility; it was his job to make sure they got home to their families safely and with no injuries.

Kinch was about to leave, when Hogan stopped him.

"Kinch, see if you can get some bilberry jam. I don't know where you'd find it, but just look."

Kinch nodded. "Right, Colonel." He left and went down into the tunnel.

Lee was sitting on his bunk when Carter came over and sat down next to him. At first, Lee ignored him, but finally he had enough.

"What do you want? I'm busy."

Carter fidgeted. "Well, do you want to talk? I don't mean to pry, but I heard Colonel Hogan talking to you. You know about-" he gestured to his eyes.

Lee glared at him. "Oh great, anything else you want to know about me? Do I brush my teeth regularly?"

Carter blinked in confusion. "No. There's nothing else I want to know. I'm sure you brush your teeth regularly. I mean, if you didn't that would be pretty gross. Because proper hygiene is really important because without it all of us could get sick. You see, in the Revolutionary War they got sick because they didn't take good care of their bodies and-."

"Carter," Lee interrupted, "shut up."

Newkirk had told Lee Carter liked to go off on tangents.

"He's an all-around good bloke, but he likes to natter. If he gets to be too much, just tell him to be quiet." Lee had nodded and said he didn't think it'd be a problem. Clearly, he'd been wrong. "I'm sorry, Carter. I'm just pretty stressed."

Carter nodded. "That's alright. I understand." He got up. "If you need anything, let me know."

Lee went back to writing his letter. "Sure, thanks. I will."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Harold Ridley invented the first artificial lens that was placed permanently in the eye, but that wasn't until 1950.**

 _Works cited:_

 _Cataract History by Dr Ananya Mandal  
MD News Medical Life Sciences_

 _Bilberry University of Maryland Medical Center_

 _The Amazing World War II Discovery That Led To Modern Cataract Surgery  
Vision Eye Institute_


	6. Chapter 6: Nu ren

Over the next few weeks, Lee tried his best to ignore his situation. He played baseball and volleyball every chance he got. He played game after game of cards with Newkirk; never minding he lost most of the time. He got into massive debt with the English corporal. Although usually quick to collect his dues, Newkirk had learned about Lee's problem and never called upon him to pay his debt.

Lee tried to fill up every minute of the day with activity. He was always busy. If he wasn't involved in some physical sport, he was talking to Carter. The two had formed a fast friendship. Lee enjoyed talking to the young sergeant. He told him all about life in Chinatown, and Carter was genuinely interested.

One day Newkirk, who had pulled so unusually devious a trick that Colonel Hogan was compelled to give him laundry duty, witnessed something that sent him off in a rare fit of laughter. Newkirk had been half-heartedly scrubbing a threadbare shirt with Lee and Carter. The Chinese man, as usual, was chatting animatedly to Carter about one of his favorite topics: Chinese food.

"And you should taste the pancakes my mother makes. They are delicious. And these noodles she cooks are very good." He continued to talk about his mother's cooking. After listening to this chatter for a while, Newkirk noticed Carter was trying to get a word in.

"Hey, Lee," he'd begin, but he was always cut off by Lee.

Newkirk watched this with amusement. He had never seen Carter trying to interrupt anyone. Most often, it was someone else having to interrupt Carter. Well, there was a first time for everything.

Word had traveled around the camp of Lee's condition. Most of the men were very sympathetic. They tried to help Lee forget his problem. LeBeau even gave up his beloved role as barracks chef for a day and allowed Lee to cook. The significance of this act was not lost on Lee and he made a special dish just for LeBeau.

He presented it to him at dinner. "It is a family recipe," Lee declared proudly.

LeBeau looked down at the dish in front of him. A massive ball of dough floated in some greasy yellow broth. The chef within him screamed.

"What do you think?" Lee asked eagerly.

LeBeau glanced back at his bowl and swallowed. _What was he to say?_ He smiled brightly at Lee. "It looks very simple."

The Chinese man grinned. "Yep, Chinese food uses simple ingredients to bring out the most flavor in the dishes."

He took a pan off the stove and walked around to each man and spooned some food into their plates. When he got to the Frenchman, again, he gave him an extra large portion. LeBeau did his best to hide a grimace. It looked like glossy, marinated pasta with a few vegetables. Lee sat down at his place.

"Let's eat," he said. He grabbed his fork and dug in.

The rest of the men glanced around the table at each other and then at their plates in front of them. At last, Colonel Hogan picked up his fork and took a big bite of the pasta. He smiled cheerfully at his men in hopes to convince them nothing was wrong with it. This helped allay the others' fears and they tentatively began eating.

LeBeau chewed and swallowed. It wasn't too bad. Rather slimy, but edible. "It's very good, Lee." And then a heat wave seemed to have hit. His head felt like it was going to explode. His ears, he was sure, had to have turned red. His mouth seemed to have gone up in flames. The pain was almost excruciating. His ears hurt and tears came to his eyes. He grabbed his coffee and downed it. It did little to relieve the pain. He sat there with his eyes closed in silence, not saying a word. When the heat and pain finally subsided, he opened his eyes. He found Lee watching him with concern. He glanced around the table and saw the other fellas trying their best not to smirk.

"What's wrong with it?" Lee asked nervously.

 _Where should he start? There were several things wrong with it. He couldn't say such things to Lee. He had worked hard making food for all of them._ "It's good, Lee, but very spicy," he said, "A bit too spicy for me."

Lee deflated. "I'm really sorry, LeBeau. I though you'd like it." He brightened. "How about you try the dumpling soup? That's shouldn't be spicy at all."

LeBeau heart sank. He wasn't sure if he could eat it. It had grown cold and a thin layer of grease lay on top. He hesitated before answering. He looked at Lee and saw the disappointment written all over his face. He sighed, inwardly. He couldn't do this to the Chinese private. He picked up his spoon and took a big bite. As he suspected, it was rather tasteless and left a thin coat of grease on his lips.

"What do you think?" Lee's face shone. It was clear he was very proud of his soup. "I managed to even get all the ingredients to make it just like my mother does. There's a special ingredient that makes it taste really good. It's a family secret my grandmother passed onto my mother. My grandmother was a cook for the Emperor. The Emperor even told her she was one of the best cooks in China."

LeBeau couldn't believe his ears. His grandmother cooked for an emperor? His disbelief must have shone on his face, for Kinch spoke up.

"I imagine Chinese food is very different from American and French food."

Lee nodded vigorously. "It definitely is. We use a lot of sesame oil and eat a lot of noodles and rice." His head jerked up. "Wait a second, did you other fellas think the pasta was too spicy?"

They all shook their heads. "No, I really liked it," said Carter.

"Then why did that happen to you?" Lee asked LeBeau.

LeBeau shrugged. "We French do not have a lot of hot food. Perhaps that is why."

"Perhaps." He jumped up. "I know. Lebeau, did you see a red crunchy bean-like thing in your pasta?"

LeBeau nodded. " _Oui_ , I was wondering what it was, so I ate it."

"That's why it was so hot. I put some in to give the pasta a slight kick, but I thought I had taken most of them out." He sighed and his face darkened for a few moments before he smiled again. "I guess I'll just have to look better next time. I'm sorry about that, LeBeau."

The little Frenchman felt badly. He watched Lee's face darken and he understood why. "It's all right, Lee. It could have happened to anyone."

Lee nodded unconvincingly. "I guess you're right. I really am sorry about those peppers.

"They are peppers? I have not seen any like them before."

"I don't know the exact name. My mother always called them the red bean peppers. She thought they looked like red beans. They're hard to get because they are usually only grown in China. My mother has some seeds, so she planted some. She sent me a jar full of them. I think they're really good. I add them to that mush in the mess hall. Distracts you from the taste."

"Hey, can I have some of those?" asked Garlotti, "I can use them whenever LeBeau gets mad at me for asking for a pizza."

LeBeau glared at him. "And what is wrong with my cooking, I ask you?"

"Absolutely nothing, LeBeau, except when you make that bouillabaisse."

"If you do not like it go find yourself another barracks cook. My mother always said, 'Beggars can't be choosers.' You should take that to heart."

"I thought your mother was French," Newkirk ribbed, "How could she say it in English?"

LeBeau turned his glare on his English friend. "Of course she is. She said it in French. I simply translated it into English for you."

They were interrupted by the sound of Baker's shoes climbing up the ladder from the tunnel.

"Message from London for you, Colonel."

Colonel Hogan got up from the table. "Thanks, Baker. What did they say?"

The staff sergeant shook his head. "They want to speak to you personally, Colonel. Sounds pretty important."

Colonel Hogan's face tensed slightly. He nodded. "I'll be right down, Baker. You should stay here and eat." Hogan headed down the tunnel.

Baker peered at the food. "What's this? Did Lebeau cook it?"

"No, I did," said Lee, "It's noodles with some sauce. Be careful not to eat anything that looks like a red bean. LeBeau had an unfortunate experience with one. They're really hot. I didn't take all of them out, so be careful." Lee dished some out to him.

Baker took a bite. "Not bad, Lee. I didn't know you could cook."

"Yeah, LeBeau let me use the stove and some of his spices."

Baker flashed a surprised glance at Lebeau. The corporal shrugged. _What was he to do? He had to do all he could to make sure Lee didn't dwell miserably over his problem._

* * *

"What? Are you kidding me? We can't just leave him here!" Hogan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He has to get to London to see a real doctor."

" _I'm sorry, old chap. It just can't be done. This mission is top priority, very important, a crucial step in winning the war. Do you understand_?"

"Yeah, you've gotten the importance across," Hogan growled. "Now what about my man? He might be in extreme pain soon. What are we to do then?"

" _I suggest you have him see a doctor_."

"And where exactly do you expect for us to find one? In case you haven't noticed, we are in a POW camp."

" _Have him see your medic then. Listen, Hogan. I'm sorry about your man, but the truth is, this mission is way more important. It could set the Germans back several months. I'm sorry, but one Jap-_ "

"He's Chinese." Hogan gritted his teeth.

" _Oh, yes. My apologies. One Chink isn't worth it right now. I know that sounds harsh, but it's the truth. After you complete this mission, we can see if we can get him here_."

"Fine, I don't have much choice do I? Did you at least find some bilberries?"

" _Ah, I have some excellent news. We did. We'll have it dropped at 0001 hours. Have some of your men ready to pick it up. We'll have some more instructions with it_."

"They'll be there. This mission better be worth it. "

" _Oh it will_ ," came the confident voice over the radio. " _As long as you do your part successfully_."

"We will. You'd better hold up to your end of the bargain. My man is suffering right now."

" _Hogan, this is the Air Force. We work as a unit. We aren't independent individuals. We do what is best for the country. You know that_."

By the time it was over, Hogan wanted to pay a visit to London. How could they be so callous? This was a human being. Lee needed immediate attention. Hogan knew the mission was important. He understood they didn't work as individuals, but it still pained him to know one of his men needed care and couldn't receive it. He sat in the radio room for a long time before finally getting up. Hogan slowly climbed up the ladder. He hadn't felt this helpless since Tiger's capture. In this case, he wasn't even fighting something he knew. The Gestapo, he was familiar with. Their methods were cruel, but you knew what to expect. Blindness was uncharted territory. The prospect terrified him. He couldn't imagine what Lee was going through.

* * *

 **The peppers LeBeau ate Tien Tsin peppers. These are very common in Sechuan cooking. They are a 8/9 on the hotness scale. Quite hot. To the best of my knowledge, and research, French people do not eat much spicy food. This would definitely throw LeBeau off. The soup is dumpling soup. I am Chinese, I was adopted when I was a baby, but I love Chinese food. Dumpling soup is very good. Don't let Lebeau's opinion sway you. He's French. I thought that would be his thoughts on Chinese food. It would offend the chef within.**

 **As I'm sure you know, Chink is a derogatory term. As I am Chinese, I can't really say I'm offended. If someone called me that, I would be because of the connotation, but not because of the actual name. Chinese people were called that. So don't get offended. I'm not.**

 **I would like to express my appreciation to my beta for wonderful suggestions, and also to Glossina who made sure LeBeau was in-character. Thank you so much!**


	7. Chapter 7: Mian bo

_**Italics denote words in Mandarin. Also, Chinese people have great respect for their elders and often refer to their parents as "esteemed mother" or "honorable father." The words used to address those older than them cannot be accurately translated. The closest it comes is "second cousin" or first uncle."**_

* * *

"They said what!" Kinch stared at Hogan in surprise. "Don't they know how serious this is?"

Hogan nodded. "I'm afraid so, Kinch. We have a more important mission to take care of. This general has top-secret plans for a surprise attack on the Eastern Front. We have to take care of that first."

"But Colonel," said LeBeau, "We could have Lee sent off in only a few days. It wouldn't be much trouble at all. We can deal with the general after we help Lee."

"He's right, Colonel. Tell them we're running a special. After we get Lee to London, we'll get them two generals for the price of one." Newkirk looked expectantly at Hogan.

"No, Newkirk. By the time Lee is ready, the general will already have come and gone. He's arriving tomorrow. London expects us to send him and the plans to them."

"Send them an IOU."

Hogan raised his eyebrows at the English corporal.

"Colonel, capturing this general is going to be impossible. He'll have more security around him than Fort Knox," said Carter.

"You're absolutely right, Carter. It's impossible."

"So we can focus on getting Lee a doctor?"

"No, we're going to take the general and the plans first." Hogan grinned at his men. "And this is how we'll do it."

* * *

Lee lay on his bunk staring at the hole in the barracks roof. He sighed. _When was Newkirk going to fix that?_ How long was he going to hold out? The hole was right over the Englishman's bunk. He was surprised Newkirk hadn't yet broken down and fixed it. Lee smiled to himself. It certainly wasn't because the corporal enjoyed the frequent shower he got. Sometimes he thought Newkirk simply enjoyed being obstinate.

Lee continued to stare thoughtfully at the roof. He liked these men. They treated him like an equal. They didn't judge him because of his skin or anything else. Sure there had been the occasional "Jap" or "Chink", but Lee knew it wasn't meant to be rude or condescending. They just hadn't known. The men were all surprisingly accepting. He'd noticed that when he had first arrived. Lee had been taken aback when he had seen several black soldiers in the barracks. He was further surprised when he noticed the men looked to Kinch as Hogan's second-in-command. He'd never seen anything like it before.

He was impressed with the whole operation. Colonel Hogan was an excellent leader. Lee had never met an officer like him. All the enlisted men had told him officers were arrogant, but Colonel Hogan wasn't at all. The way he manipulated the Germans was impressive and often rather humorous. He'd heard of many exploits from Carter.

Lee grinned. He really liked Carter. He reminded him of his little brother. Bursting with enthusiasm and rather talkative. He was like a little piece of home. Whenever he got homesick, Lee would go find Carter. They'd talk about home and Chinese cooking. The sergeant was also very smart. Lee had watched Carter assemble one of his bombs. The sergeant was a genius with explosives. A Picasso with dynamite and detonators, was how Colonel Hogan had described him.

Lee thought back to dinner. He closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to simply erase the memory. He couldn't imagine what LeBeau had gone through. The pain must have been horrible. He couldn't believe he had left some peppers in the pasta. He had thought he had gone through the pasta well. He always had. This was the first time he had failed to remove all of them.

Lee was scared. He realized it. What was he going to do when he went completely blind? It was only a matter of time. He knew that. It had happened enough in his family for him to know what to expect. This "pepper incident" had scared him. It made him face the reality of losing his sight. He knew it could have happened to anyone, but it didn't help him at all. LeBeau had told him over and over it hadn't been his fault.

"It was an accident. Could have happened to anyone."

Lee had nodded, but he couldn't get it out of his mind. The fear was still there. He had pushed all thoughts of losing his sight away. He'd done everything he could to make himself forget. And then just when he thought he'd succeeded, it all came rushing at him in one simple mistake. He exhaled a breath he forgot he was holding. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled out his unfinished letter from under his pillow. He stared at it in dread. What was he going to tell his parents? He had avoided writing the letter because he hadn't wanted to deal with his parents. He shook his head. _Might as well get it over with._

* * *

 _Esteemed Mother and Father,_

 _I am very sorry for not having written to you sooner. It has been quite busy lately. My plane was shot down, and I was sent to a prison camp. Do not worry, esteemed Mother, I am not hurt. Please tell second Uncle I am okay and am still doing my eye exercises like he told me to do._

 _I will tell you a little about this camp. I have made some friends, honorable Father. They are very nice people. You do not have to worry. I have become especially close with one soldier. His name is Andrew Carter. He is an Indian! His Indian name is Little Deer Who Runs Swift And Sure Through the Forest. Isn't that very interesting?_

 _Everyone is very nice to me. At first, they thought I was Japanese, but now they understand the difference. A few of them called me a "Chink", but I explained it to them, and they haven't called me that since. They are really very decent chaps. (That's what one of my friends, Newkirk, told me.)_

 _The food here is pretty lousy. Tell third Aunt I miss her cooking. Thank you for the jar of peppers you sent me, honorable Mother. They are very good. I have shared some with my friends, and they really like them._

 _There's not much to do around here. We play cards a lot. One of the men here, Newkirk, the one I just told you about; he is a magician of sorts. He's very good. We play poker and blackjack quite often. Do not worry, I am not in debt at all. Newkirk, besides being a magician, is also our dealer. He doesn't make me pay him back whenever I lose. It's just imaginary money. He almost always wins. (I think he cheats by hiding aces in his sleeves. I haven't been able to catch him yet.)_

 _I hope the Krauts let this letter through. I don't know if they will because it's written in Mandarin. If not, you'll have to get second Sister to read it to you when I write it in English._

 _I have finally learned to sew and knit. Newkirk showed me how to tailor clothes and how to make suits out of blankets. Carter taught me how to knit. Maybe I can knit you a pair of socks sometime. Tell all my second siblings "hello" for me._

 _Your son,_

 _Lee_


End file.
